


Centrifugal Force

by skadren



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Aphrodisiacs, Dubious Consent, F/F, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining while fucking, Political Intrigue, Smangst, someone on twitter galaxy brained and now i also have to add, ur welcome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-06 06:37:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20502536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skadren/pseuds/skadren
Summary: Sephiroth is the crown prince. Cloud is his personal servant slash bodyguard. But things are about to change.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [solidarity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/solidarity/gifts).

> this is inspired by [this tumblr post](https://fieldbears.tumblr.com/post/187306260581/fake-relationship-but-its-a-king-and-his-concubine). it's deviated quite a bit from the original idea, but it's worth mentioning.
> 
> aka the fuck-or-die pwp that grew a plot, what the fuck, enjoy the political intrigue i guess

“Cloud,” Sephiroth pants into Cloud’s shoulder, stumbling as he wrangles him into his room.

“Sephiroth,” Cloud says back, worried. “Should I—should I go get the physician—”

“No. No one can… no one can see me like this.”

“Is it poison? What _ happened—” _

“No one,” Sephiroth continues, Cloud’s words unheard. “This is…” He leans in suddenly, pupils so wide Cloud can barely make out the thin green circles lining them, and their noses touch. “Cloud,” he says again.

Cloud leans back. “Sephiroth?” he asks warily.

“No one… except you.” His breath is hot against Cloud’s lips as he pulls Cloud close against something hot and hard in his pants. “I trust you.”

Cloud stutters, suddenly unsure. There’s no denying the electric connection he feels right now, and it’s not like he hasn’t been pining hopelessly for his prince and best friend for _ years— _ but that’s the keyword, _ hopelessly, _ with no sign of his attraction being reciprocated, and it’s become very clear what kind of _ poison _exactly Sephiroth’s been given. “I… don’t think this is a good idea—”

“Cloud,” Sephiroth says, a lower rumble than Cloud’s ever heard before. “I need—” He swallows thickly, licking his lips. “I _ need.” _

“Maybe I should go get someone else,” Cloud says, a bit desperately. “I’m—I’m not, I don’t—”

“No.” Sephiroth’s eyes blaze as he reaches behind him and fumbles with something, and Cloud jolts as he hears a _ click. _

They’re locked in.

“I said it can only be _ you,” _ Sephiroth says, before pulling him up for a bruising kiss. Cloud’s mouth falls open in shock, and he can’t hold back the strangled noise that comes from somewhere deep in his throat as Sephiroth unceremoniously shoves his tongue in, lapping at the insides, and Cloud squirms in his grasp, pushing uselessly at his chest.

By the time Sephiroth pulls away, Cloud is breathless and panting, and a string of saliva connects their mouths. Sephiroth licks it away like a man thirsting for water in the desert, and Cloud’s breath catches in his throat.

“Cloud,” Sephiroth says. “If you truly do not want this… then we have to stop here. Before we reach the point of no return.”

Cloud opens his mouth to say _ this isn’t a good idea, you’re going to regret this, we have to stop. _ But he can’t manage to wrap his tongue around the right words, can’t bring himself to deny the one thing he’s been craving for _ years, _can’t outright lie to Sephiroth when he’s like this, skin glistening with sweat and eyes heated with lust, a vision.

“Cloud,” Sephiroth says again, beginning to look a bit desperate. “If you do not consent, you must leave, and I will deal with it myself.”

“You might not be able to—_ deal with it— _ by yourself,” Cloud says. If someone has laced Sephiroth’s food or drink with an aphrodisiac, then it must be for the purpose of trapping Sephiroth in a political relationship, whether by copulation or by child. It’s likely that the substance incites a lust unbearable without such _ assistance _by design.

“Then you must leave,” Sephiroth repeats, and presses the key to the room, an elegant, gilded thing, into Cloud’s hand. “Leave, and allow no one else in.”

Cloud shuts his eyes so he doesn’t have to look at him, at his beautiful, statuesque features edging on the unnatural side of perfect, a sculpture chiseled by the gods. “This will help you, right?” he asks, only delaying the inevitable.

He can feel Sephiroth’s chest rumble as he answers, “Yes.”

Even with his eyes closed, Cloud is still weak. “All right, then,” he says, barely above a whisper, allowing the key to fall to the floor with a delicate clatter. “I consent.”

The words have barely left his lips when Sephiroth falls upon him again, plundering his mouth in a hungry, searing kiss as he tugs fervently at his clothing, revealing Cloud’s collarbones and part of his chest. Sephiroth mouths at the exposed skin like a man possessed, making an angry, rumbling noise deep in his throat when Cloud’s clothes get in the way of any further exploration.

“S-Sephiroth,” Cloud gasps, fumbling for the sash tying his servants’ robes shut. “Let me—hey!”

Cloud yelps as Sephiroth tears straight through the finely woven cloth, and a part of him aches for the loss of a robe softer and finer than anything he’d ever worn in the first ten years of his life. Sephiroth pays his protests no mind, though, and simply rips it further, tugging the shreds off and tossing them aside with no more than a dismissive glance. The many layers and complex knots of Sephiroth’s imperial robes prevent him from doing the same to his own clothing, however, and Sephiroth growls again, more frustrated than Cloud’s ever seen him in all the years they’ve known each other.

“I’ll—I’ll do it, okay?” Cloud says, reaching for the first silk belt.

_ “Hurry,” _ Sephiroth says, a velvety animalistic rumble, and Cloud shudders. He’s barely finished pulling off the outer layers, slowed significantly by the quivering of his fingers, when Sephiroth makes another impatient noise and pins Cloud up against the wall.

“Sephiroth,” Cloud protests. “I’m not done yet—”

“It’s taking too long. I can’t—I can’t…” Sephiroth’s nostrils flare, and Cloud suddenly realizes that even the thin green circle lining his pupils has disappeared. “I will end up harming you if I do not obtain release soon.”

Cloud swallows, hard, and Sephiroth watches his throat bob with a predatory look on his face. It’s not the fact that everything is moving too fast that Cloud fears—in reality, he yearns to be swept up in the pace, and it’s that willingness to lose himself that terrifies him. It’s all too easy to forget that this is only for a single night, only because Sephiroth needs someone he trusts, and to take advantage of his state to fulfill Cloud’s own selfish fantasies is a betrayal of that trust.

_ Don’t you dare forget, _ he tells himself, even as he outwardly says, “Okay,” and presses a hand against the rock-hard bulge between Sephiroth’s legs.

It’s soft, hesitant, but Sephiroth hisses harshly, a swift gust of air escaping from between his teeth, and bucks up wildly into the touch. “Don’t tease.”

“ … Okay,” Cloud says again, and reaches inside Sephiroth’s undergarments this time, taking his thick hardness in hand. It’s unnaturally hot and almost seems to pulse in Cloud’s grasp, no doubt some side-effect of the aphrodisiac, but he’s distracted by the way a full-bodied shudder wracks through Sephiroth and his head falls to rest on Cloud’s shoulder with a low groan.

Cloud grasps it firmly, moving his hand in smooth, even strokes and running his thumb over the weeping tip at odd intervals. Suddenly, he’s glad for the single-night tumble in the hay he’d had with one of the stablehands, who’d taught him how to pleasure other men with his hands and his mouth and his ass. Being able to pull on that experience now almost makes up for how empty and used he’d felt, after—when the other boy had propositioned him, he’d thought there wouldn’t be any harm in agreeing, seeing as his hopeless wish for Sephiroth to be his first had been less than a pipe dream anyways. But the realization the morning after that it had become a physical impossibility, despite knowing it had been impossible in the first place, had somehow hurt like no other—

There’s some element of irony in this situation now, Cloud thinks, but he can’t find any humor in it.

With another twist and flick of Cloud’s wrist, Sephiroth makes a choked-off noise and comes hard without warning, a large wet stain spreading on his formerly white undergarments. Cloud blinks, surprised, but simply removes his hand and tugs at the last sash holding Sephiroth’s robes on. “I’m going to take this off now.”

Sephiroth makes a sound that might pass as assent.

Cloud removes his robes mainly because the wetness will dry quickly and become uncomfortable, but then he remembers they’re dealing with an _ aphrodisiac. _“Um, do you need—?”

Sephiroth’s cock springing up as soon as he peels the cloth away, looking for all the world as if it’d never softened, is more than enough answer. Cloud frowns, but as he reaches for it again, Sephiroth catches his hand.

“No,” he says, voice low and hoarse. “Not like—I don’t… Please.”

“Sephiroth?”

Sephiroth just groans and shakes his head. “Please. I can’t…”

“You need… something else?” Cloud asks hesitantly. He hadn’t—he’d hoped he could keep it completely impersonal, but—

_ “Please,” _ Sephiroth says for the third time. “I need—I need you.”

Cloud can’t hold back his shudder as those words in Sephiroth’s desperate, _ sinful _ voice send heat pooling in his gut, but he firmly suppresses any thoughts before they can run wild in his mind. _ It’s just the lust talking, _he tells himself firmly, then gets to work.

Clearly, his hands aren’t good enough. That makes sense—he’s really only done this once before—but that means he’ll have to get more… involved. Cloud isn’t sure his heart can take it.

But his heart is a small sacrifice in the face of helping his prince, gladly given.

So he gently settles Sephiroth so he leans back against the wall, then gets to his knees. Even though Sephiroth is the one who had requested it, he utters a startled, wordless exclamation as Cloud wraps his lips around the head of his cock, hands grasping helplessly at Cloud’s hair before quickly dropping away with a choked-off apology.

Cloud pulls off to say, “It’s fine. Do whatever you need to,” before resuming his actions, taking Sephiroth in deeper. He ignores how it sears hotly, branding its shape in Cloud’s mouth. If Sephiroth treats him roughly, as a thing to be used, it will be all the easier to remember that that is exactly what Cloud is.

The hands return to Cloud’s hair, almost hesitantly, but the moment Cloud pulls back slightly to swirl his tongue around the head, they tighten drastically and jerk him forward until Sephiroth’s cock hits the back of his throat. Cloud chokes and tries to pull back—he can’t _ breathe— _but Sephiroth doesn’t relent, hips bucking ruthlessly until something thick and hot spills down Cloud’s throat, and it’s all he can do to swallow around the thickness stretching his jaw wide.

Just as dark spots begin swimming across Cloud’s vision, Sephiroth regains himself and hastily tugs him off with another broken apology, still coming all the while. More hot liquid splatters across Cloud’s cheeks, dripping down his chin, and Cloud swipes at it in futility, only smearing it further. Though Sephiroth had come too deep in his throat for Cloud to truly taste it, something bitter and heavy still lingers, spreading from the back of his tongue to the walls of his mouth, and before he can stop himself, he runs his tongue over his lips to catch what little has gathered there. Then he scolds himself, because committing Sephiroth’s taste to memory will only serve to torture him more in the future.

But Cloud has never been very good at taking actions to prevent his own pain.

He ignores the part of him that loves the way Sephiroth had unabashedly used him for his own pleasure, the way he’d been helpless to do anything but _ feel, _ the way he’d been marked as Sephiroth’s own. He shouldn’t be enjoying this. He _ can’t _ be enjoying this.

(What does it say about him, that he is the kind of person who would take pleasure in a situation like this?)

Belatedly, he realizes that he’s teared up in more than just an automatic reflex to being choked, and he quickly blinks the wetness in his eyes away. He doesn’t want Sephiroth to notice; he’ll most certainly blame himself later, when he remembers. _ If _ he remembers.

“It’s not—it’s not going down,” Sephiroth says, eyes wild and vulnerable for the briefest of moments before he shuts them. “Cloud, I…” He runs a thumb over the cum smeared across Cloud’s cheek. When his eyes flutter open again, they belong to a different entity entirely, dark and hungry. “I’m going to fuck you,” he growls, grip suddenly tight against Cloud’s jaw, and if Cloud had thought his voice was deep and rumbling before, it’s nothing compared to what it is _ now. _

Cloud manages to swallow his moan, but his lips still part in a breathy gasp. “Okay,” he says, despite the way his brain screams both abject dissent and fervent agreement at the same time. “I—let me…”

He tries to tug himself away so he can move them closer to the bed, and as such the bedside table, which he knows—and tries not to think about—contains a half-used bottle of slick oil just for these purposes, but Sephiroth’s grip tightens to near-bruising.

“Where—”

“Just the bed,” Cloud soothes him. “We need the oil, remember?”

Sephiroth looks marginally appeased by the mention of the bed and allows Cloud to tug him along, but refuses to let go of his face, forcing Cloud to back up slowly step by step until his back hits the bedframe. As he fumbles behind himself for the correct drawer, Sephiroth snarls, “It’s taking too long.”

Cloud chances a glance at Sephiroth’s cock, slick and red and angry-looking. “Just a little bit longer, okay?” He decides not to mention how it would take much less time if only Sephiroth would let go of his chin so he can actually see what he’s doing.

The moment he wraps his fingers around the small bottle, though, he finds himself tossed face-first onto the bed, still clutching the oil, and he shudders at the feeling of Sephiroth’s thick hardness sliding between his cheeks. He bucks his hips up into the feeling just once before he catches himself, and both of them groan.

“I can’t wait any longer, Cloud,” Sephiroth murmurs into his ear, and Cloud squirms, clutching at the sheets as the warm breath seems to ignite something inside him. He’s so lost to the sensation that he barely notices the head of Sephiroth’s cock prod against his entrance in time, but the prospect of being entered dry has him jerking away with a panicked yelp.

“Wait—!” Sephiroth makes an angry noise in reply, but quiets when Cloud says, “It won’t—fit like that. It’ll… hurt a lot.” He winces at the mere thought.

Sephiroth’s momentary pause is enough for Cloud to push back against him and flip them over so that he’s settled between the man’s spread legs, and Cloud quickly takes him in mouth before he can do anything else. He wraps one hand around the extra length he’d rather not have to swallow down after that disastrous first experience, then uses the other to flick open the bottle of oil. The slick liquid spills all over the bedsheets as he clumsily wets his fingers, but it’s a necessary sacrifice in the face of preparing himself as quickly as possible before Sephiroth’s patience runs out again. He doesn’t even pause to warm it with his body heat before unceremoniously pushing a single finger in.

It burns. It’s cold, but it still burns, and yet the feeling of his own finger rubbing against his walls is unexpectedly—_ good, _ he might say, but only in the hidden, most shameful parts of his mind.

The second and third fingers go much in the same way, each sensation somehow only growing more and more intense with each passing second, and he’s suddenly glad for the cock shoved down his throat, muffling the mortifying sounds spilling from his mouth as he works himself slick and open. The vibrations created seem to be too much for Sephiroth, though, and he pulls Cloud off with another angry-sounding grunt.

Cloud writhes in his grasp, fingers still deep inside himself as he gasps, “Wh-what—?”

Sephiroth is the furthest from a talkative mood, simply pushing Cloud down before hooking Cloud’s legs over his shoulders, roughly tugging his fingers out in the process. Cloud manages to reduce the wrecked cry that fights to tear from his throat to a simple choked breath, but his efforts are quickly destroyed by a single swift, hard thrust.

Cloud _screams, _voice breaking mid-cry. “Aaaa-_aaaahhh!”_

For a heartbeat, two, Sephiroth seems content with watching Cloud squirm, spread out lewdly beneath him and impaled on his cock. In turn, Cloud’s world is reduced to merely sensory, from the heated touch of Sephiroth’s skin to the too-tight stretch and flutter of his walls around Sephiroth’s cock to the way every part of his body seems to burn with an incomprehensible need.

With sudden clarity, Cloud realizes that ingesting Sephiroth’s seed must have somehow spread the aphrodisiac’s effect to _ him— _

Then Sephiroth pulls out, only the tip of his cock remaining inside, and Cloud’s breath escapes him along with it as his hole twitches, unbearably cold and empty, all thoughts other than the desire to be filled again wiped from his mind.

But Sephiroth stays still, barely pressing into Cloud, and Cloud lifts his head confusedly. “Wha… _ oh—!” _ The moment Cloud meets his lust-darkened gaze, Sephiroth begins to push back in slowly, and Cloud shivers and bucks, trying to press back with a high, needy whine. “N-nhh…”

As Sephiroth finally bottoms out, Cloud’s lips fall open in a shameless moan, only to be quickly swallowed by Sephiroth’s mouth descending hungrily onto his, impassioned and possessive. For the briefest moment, it registers that kissing is not necessarily an act they need to partake in to neutralize the aphrodisiac—it's purely self-indulgent in its intimacy, and isn't required to obtain any sort of sexual release, so _ why— _

But the thought vanishes in the wake of Sephiroth setting a brutal pace, and Cloud falls to pieces, unable to do anything but _ feel. _

This time, when Sephiroth comes, Cloud isn’t far behind, the heat in his gut only intensifying as Sephiroth’s cock pulses strongly, filling him with thick ropes of cum. His cries are quickly devoured by Sephiroth’s mouth, as if the man is trying to consume everything Cloud could possibly offer him, and the thought has him quivering uncontrollably as Sephiroth continues to fuck him hard, not showing a single hint of flagging despite their mutual climax.

(Cloud would gladly give his entirety, mind and body and soul, if only Sephiroth would accept it.)

Sometime during Cloud’s haze of heat and pleasure and _ Sephiroth, _ Sephiroth moves on from Cloud’s mouth to nip and suck at the junction between his shoulder and neck. Still vaguely coherent enough to wonder, Cloud pants, “Wha—? S-Sephiro-aa- _ aahhh—” _ He cuts himself off with a loud cry as Sephiroth bites down, just hard enough to draw blood, and Cloud shudders and comes again at the feeling. The clenching of Cloud’s walls prompts Sephiroth to follow with a low groan, and Cloud trembles as cum trickles out around Sephiroth’s cock and down his thighs. There’s nowhere else inside him for it to go—gods, he’s so full— _ too _full—

Sephiroth groans again as he pulls back, blinking fuzzily down at Cloud’s debauched form. “Cloud—?”

He falters as his gaze flicks to the still-bleeding mark on Cloud’s shoulder. Confused by his sudden hesitance, Cloud squirms plaintively on Sephiroth’s cock, sending more cum seeping out of his ass.

Sephiroth blinks again, a strange frown creasing his brow. “Cloud…”

His frown has Cloud frowning, too—Cloud hates it when Sephiroth frowns; it’s usually a result of spending the entire day arguing in court, especially with his father, and Cloud is always helpless to wipe it away. But something bold and new in him has him leaning up, hissing at the way it shifts Sephiroth’s cock against his oversensitive walls, and pressing a kiss just to the left of the corner of Sephiroth’s mouth.

Sephiroth makes a strangled sound and pushes Cloud’s legs off his shoulders, shifting as if to move away, but freezes at the broken whimper that falls from Cloud’s mouth. “What’s wrong?”

Cloud squirms again, the heat burning inside him nearly unbearable. “I need—I…”

In desperation, he pushes himself back up until he’s perched on Sephiroth’s lap, still seated on Sephiroth’s cock, and Sephiroth’s hands fall to rest on Cloud’s hips as if by reflex. The loose grasp tightens to a bruising grip as Cloud lifts himself until the thickest part of the head tugs at the rim of his entrance, then lets himself drop, the overabundance of Sephiroth’s cum aiding in the way his hole accepts the rest easily.

Cloud’s back arches as he cries out, overwhelmed by the way Sephiroth’s cock rubs against every sensitive spot inside him. He’s already come twice, so of course he’s overstimulated, but he hadn’t expected it to feel so—so—

Then Sephiroth shifts his grasp, and Cloud is left writhing as Sephiroth sets a new pace, lifting and dropping Cloud into the upwards thrust of his hips over and over and over again. Cloud is helpless to do anything but press tiny, desperate kisses to every inch of Sephiroth’s face in both a show of appreciation and a plea for more, each kiss interrupted by the wrecked noises each thrust tears from Cloud’s chest.

Cloud’s third orgasm is very nearly dry, but no less intense for it—in fact, as white-hot pleasure sears through every nerve in his body, his peak seems to last for minutes—an eternity—

-

Cloud wakes to a cold, empty bed and a throbbing ache in his lower body.

For a moment, he almost thinks the night before was a dream, as blurred and hazy as it is, and he’d simply pulled something the day before, but a quick glance in the small mirror on Sephiroth’s dresser reveals an arc in the perfect shape of teeth just above his collarbone, bruised red and purple, and Cloud flushes at the memory.

_ That _ part of the night, at least, is perfectly clear. It’s only later on, when the aphrodisiac had completely taken effect, that Cloud barely remembers—and what he _ does _ remember has him flushing harder, this time from shame.

Cloud’s dressed in a new robe, identical to the one Sephiroth had torn last night in his haste. Someone must have washed him of the evidence from last night’s activities; his skin is clean of his own fluids, his hair fluffs up in the way it does only after it’s been freshly washed, and most importantly, he doesn’t feel anything _ down there, _crusting or oozing or otherwise.

He’s not surprised that Sephiroth is gone. He’s the _ crown prince, _ an incredibly important man with an impossibly busy schedule; it makes sense that he doesn’t have time to wait for Cloud to wake up and talk about what happened—that is, if he even _ wants _ to talk about what happened and not just ignore it like the unbelievably shameful event being forced to sleep with one’s own servant is—

No, Cloud’s not surprised that Sephiroth is gone.

He’s interrupted from his thoughts by a knock on the door. He opens it to Denzel, an errand boy for the kitchens, still clutching a tray piled with luxurious breakfast foods, wide-eyed with fear.

Before Cloud can even ask what’s wrong, Denzel says, “The emperor—he’s summoned you—”

Dread pools in Cloud’s gut. For the emperor to go through unofficial channels like this rather than rely on his imperial messengers—

“I see,” Cloud says solemnly. “Thanks, Denzel.”

-

Cloud can hear Sephiroth and the emperor’s raised voices from beyond the thick, intricately-carved wooden dividers separating the throne room official from the rest of the hall. The eunuchs give each other looks and gesture for him pass through unannounced.

The argument halts the moment Cloud steps in. He approaches reverently, head ducked, then tucks his sleeves in and prostrates himself a few feet behind Sephiroth.

“This humble subject greets his emperor,” he says, in accordance to procedure.

From his perch on his grand throne, Emperor Hojo sniffs. “This is the slave you chose personally to be your bodyguard, isn’t he, Sephiroth?”

A pause. “Yes, Imperial Father.”

“He doesn’t look like much.”

“Cloud is everything I could ask for in both a personal servant and a bodyguard.”

“And yet he failed to ‘protect’ you from a drug that so badly impaired your judgment you would take someone such as him to bed.”

A longer pause, this one much heavier. “That was through no fault of Cloud’s own.”

“It is his duty to prevent any incidents such as this from happening, is it not? Everyone at that banquet saw you leave. They saw your _ state _ when you left. There is no question in anyone’s minds that you’ve bedded this… slave. We cannot have such shameful acts tied to the imperial name.”

“It still was through no fault of Cloud’s. He is not responsible for taste-testing my food, nor is he in charge of security in allowing guests in and out of the palace.”

“That’s right,” the emperor says silkily. “The one in charge of security is _ you. _It does not reflect well on you, Sephiroth, that a clearly enchanted substance that—increased sperm production, did you say?—managed to make it through your guards. Potions that lower inhibitions or increase lust are common enough in these banquets, but a dangerous magical drug like that? It’s fortunate that my private guard managed to discreetly catch the culprit after your… abrupt exit. Marquis Lockhart—”

Cloud can’t hold back his gasp, muffled as it is by his still-prone position on the floor.

Emperor Hojo pauses, then continues, “Marquis Lockhart along with his daughter have been quietly detained and placed in a guarded room for now. It was clearly a scheme to impregnate the daughter and tie you in a marriage for their own political gain. Now—”

“What does that have to do with Cloud?” Sephiroth says, an edge of steel creeping into his voice. “Punish the evildoers, not the victims.”

“Funny you should say that. You see, poor miss Tifa Lockhart had no idea of her father’s insidious scheming. Regardless, as law dictates, in order to carry out the punishment to full, both father and daughter must be executed. Not to mention that if word were to get out that an outsider managed to sneak this aphrodisiac past your own guard detail—I’m afraid there might be public pressure for a… new crown prince. But…” There’s a shifting of silk as the emperor rises, and footsteps echo closer and closer until they halt right beside Cloud’s bent head. “Your dear _ Cloud. _ It’d be easy for someone so trusted, so _ intimate _ with you already, to sneak something in your drink. He’s clearly besotted with you already—a simple slip of a hand…”

“You suggest I lay the blame on _ Cloud _ for my own failures?” Sephiroth’s voice is more than steel now. It’s molten, _ furious. _ “I will not.”

“And sacrifice the life of an innocent girl, not to mention risk your own throne?”

Sephiroth’s internal struggle is noiseless but audible.

Emperor Hojo heaves a put-upon sigh. “Very well. How about we ask your little slave here his thoughts on the matter? Rise.”

Cloud stumbles to his feet, still thrown by everything he has just heard.

“Well, boy?” the emperor asks. “Your master refuses to choose, so it is your decision, now. What say you?”

Cloud is silent for a moment, but it’s far from a debate. Sephiroth may currently hold the position of crown prince despite being born of Consort Lucrecia, as Empress Jenova had never been able to conceive, but the empress’s three adopted sons technically have as much claim to the throne as he does. If something were to shake the public’s faith in his ability to lead—

Not to mention _ Tifa. _Kind, lovely Tifa, who’s always been good to Cloud, even back when he’d been no more than a scrawny slave sold for less than a hundred gold pieces—

Cloud bows deeply, bringing his hands together in a gesture of respect.

There’s a sharp intake of breath from Sephiroth’s direction. _ “Cloud—” _

But Cloud can’t bear to look at Sephiroth’s face. Instead, he just murmurs, “This humble one… gladly accepts his emperor’s judgment.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nothing actually happens, but slight warning for sexual harassment + graphic descriptions of violence

Cloud’s conviction had been an overblown affair; he’d been summoned to appear in front of the entire court. The whole point had been to provide a culprit for the public eye, after all. Even now, three days later, Emperor Hojo’s decree, read in the resonating tones of a court herald, rings in Cloud’s mind.

_ “Cloud Strife, formerly of Nibelheim. For your crimes of smuggling illegal magical substances, attempted seduction of the crown prince, and betrayal of imperial trust, you are to be executed in three weeks’ time. The method is to be beheading, followed by a display of the body in the public market. That is all.” _

Then Cloud had lowered his head, raised his hands to accept the scroll, and thanked the emperor for his wisdom and kindness.

Beheading. The ache in Cloud's lower back had finally faded yesterday, so he lays on the stone-cold floor, staring up at the equally stone-cold dungeon ceiling, pondering this.

Cloud is no stranger to beheading. They’d had them often, where he’d been kept as a slave, of those who’d grown too unruly or too weak to work. Those who had been deemed useless. He can almost convince himself it’s a mercy; it certainly sounds less painful than being strangled or quartered or boiled alive or slowly sliced to death. But as young as he’d been those days, he can vividly remember the way it’d often taken three or four or even five tries to fully sever the head from the body, dulled metal fighting to tear through flesh and sinew and bone. Once the throat had been crushed, their screams were no more than mere wheezing, but somehow the very air had seemed to vibrate with _something—_perhaps the agony of their very spirit—before going deathly silent.

Those slaves had not been considered worth even whetting a good blade on. Cloud has no delusions as to how much he himself is worth.

Belatedly, he realizes that he’s lifted a hand to grasp at his own vulnerable throat, the metal cuffs of his chains cold against his flesh. They clank with every motion, masking the echoing clatter of approaching footsteps until they’re only a few strides away, and Cloud jolts to his feet, the chains around his ankles jangling loudly in reaction.

So far, the guards have ignored him, only casting him half-confused, half-pitying looks when they bring him food, and even after three days’ worth of shift changes they’d all seemed content to leave him well enough alone. But this guard is different—he holds a different look in his eyes, some mix of contempt and anger and something else Cloud can’t quite name.

When he pulls the ring of keys from his belt and unlocks the door, stepping in, Cloud resists the urge to back away. The guard’s posture is very carefully disinterested, but he scans Cloud up and down, taking in the coarse gray-white of his prison robes, the length of the chains locked around his wrists and ankles, the way three days’ worth of dirt has begun to gather on his hands and feet and face. The darkening shadows underneath his eyes. The way his skin has already begun to turn gaunt and pale.

Then the man’s lip curls up into a sneer. “Given up already, have you?”

Cloud remains silent.

“No one believes you did it, of course. How would a lowly servant like you get his hands on powerful magic like that? No, everyone knows this is a cover-up.” He stalks forward, backing Cloud into the wall behind him, then settles back on his heels, looking oddly satisfied. “Now the question is—a cover-up for what?”

Seemingly content with monologuing to an unresponsive audience, he continues,  _ “My _ guess is… whoever it was who drugged the crown prince, their plan  _ worked.  _ And now the emperor’s trying to cover it up to avoid pressure for a political marriage.” His eyes flick to the mark on Cloud’s neck, and his lip curls. “That mark… it’s a bit too  _ obvious, _ isn’t it? And even if he were drugged, why would the prince ever dirty his hands with someone like you?”

He grasps at Cloud’s chin, tilting it up as if to get a better look, and Cloud resists the urge to snarl and smash his face in. It’s definitely possible—his chains give him enough slack to roam a good amount of his cell—but they leave him vulnerable if the man chooses to retaliate. Cloud also has no doubt that he could make his life very, very uncomfortable—starvation is nothing new, but if they tighten his chains to the point where he can’t even  _ move, _ Cloud doesn’t know if he could bear it—

And—why does it matter when he’s going to be dead in less than three weeks? Let the guard say his part, then leave. It makes no difference to Cloud.

“Although,” the guard says, running a thumb over Cloud’s cheek, “I can definitely see some of the… appeal. Not enough for someone like  _ him,  _ though—no slave would be anywhere  _ near _ worthy, no matter how pretty the face. Why anyone would believe he'd even have reason to choose someone like you, I can't even  _ begin _ to fathom—"

_ Easy. So he wouldn't have to choose someone like  _ you, Cloud manages to resist saying back. He's less successful at resisting the urge to flinch away from man's grasp, the touch a twisted parody of Sephiroth’s only a few nights before, and the guard chuckles, dragging his thumb down to run over Cloud’s lower lip.

“Poor thing. You never even got the chance to spread your legs for your master like you so desperately yearned to, yet you give up your life for a cover no one believes. How does it feel, that disappointment? That  _ despair?”  _ He turns Cloud’s face this way and that, no longer bothering to disguise the appraising lust in his eyes. “You’re so pliant, like a discarded doll—it really must have broken you, hmm? It’s a rather good look on someone as pretty as you. Then…” His face twists into a cruel smirk. “You wouldn’t mind spreading your legs for someone like  _ me, _ would you, pretty thing? I’ll even let you imagine that it’s your beloved prince—I won’t mind if you call his name—”

Cloud jerks back in disgust. Again, he debates the merits of fighting back—but—

The man kicks Cloud’s legs apart, positioning himself in between them, and Cloud’s skin crawls. “That’s the one good thing they did,” he muses. “Three days and not a single bruise on you, but at least they made it so that you could still do what you’re best at—”

A loud clang of the outer metal gate. Thudding footsteps.

“Hey!” a familiar voice barks. “Touch him any more and the crown prince will do much worse than just see you dead.”

The guard drops Cloud’s chin like a hot stone, and Cloud slumps back against the wall, relieved. “G-General—!”

Zack’s face is dark with rage as he storms into view, but Cloud meets his gaze and shakes his head. Zack scowls but turns away, acquiescing to Cloud’s silent request. “Get out of here. I don’t want to see your face anywhere within a  _ mile  _ of this place.”

The moment the fleeing guard is out of earshot, Zack rushes into the cell, frantically checking Cloud over for any sign of harm.

“I’m fine,” Cloud reassures him, moving to bat his hands away as usual, but Zack winces at the chains’ clanking. Cloud freezes. “Sorr—”

“Cloud,” Zack interrupts. “Why didn’t you fight back? He was going to—going to… I know you could’ve kicked that asshole’s ass with your hands tied behind your back—”

Cloud shrugs.

“Don’t give up yet, Cloud!” Zack says, placing his hands on Cloud’s shoulders. “Seph’s still fighting hard to get you outta here, okay? He's been chomping at the bit to come see you—"

Cloud jolts. "He  _ what?  _ Zack, you can't let him—!" Sephiroth seeing the state that Cloud is in—the fact that Sephiroth will have to watch his execution is bad enough—

"I know," Zack says, aggrieved. "It's been hell enough just trying to keep him from marching up to the emperor and demanding he let you go. He's usually so much more levelheaded, you know. But whenever you happen to be involved…” Zack gives Cloud a significant look.

Cloud ignores it. It's common for Zack to try to insinuate that Cloud and Sephiroth have anything more than a simple master-servant relationship; Cloud, as always, simply tries to pretend that it doesn't give him false hope.

Zack sighs, used to Cloud's stubbornness, and continues, "Well, either way, we're getting you out of here, come hell or high water. How do you think Seph would feel if you let yourself wither away here meanwhile?”

“You're not likely to succeed,” Cloud murmurs.

Zack frowns. “What do you mean? Sure, it was the emperor’s decree, but technically Seph has a lot of power over these kinds of security cases too—”

“My sentence is for a treason case, not a breach of security. That’s not so easily reversed, especially since the emperor seems to have some ulterior motive this time.”

“ … An ulterior motive?”

Cloud nods. “The emperor’s always been impartial to the fight for the throne. He usually lets Sephiroth and his brothers fight it out themselves. If this had been a normal case, then he would have executed Tifa and her father without even consulting Sephiroth about its potential effects on his public reputation. But instead, he set this up.”

“So you’re saying—this was a  _ trap?”  _ Zack looks stunned. “Why would he even want you dead?”

“Well,” Cloud says, “I don’t think the death of a servant would any more than a byproduct of his plans. There are easier ways to get someone like me killed. But he definitely has  _ some _ kind of scheme going on.”

“Oh. But now that I think about it,” Zack mumbles, brow creasing, “it  _ is  _ super convenient that the culprit ended up being Marquis Lockhart, and the emperor was able to use Tifa as an ultimatum. If it had been anyone else, Seph wouldn’t have thought twice about letting them be executed instead of you…”

“Are you saying he framed the Marquis?” Cloud hadn’t really considered that possibility. What would be the point, if he wasn’t going to be punished for it anyways?

Zack shakes his head. “No, it’s impossible. I managed to get there in time for the last parts of the interrogation. He signed a confession to bringing in a lust-inducing tincture and everything. Slipped it right into Seph’s wine when he was passing by the table to pay respects, and still had the bottle on him when we searched him. We still have no idea how he passed it off as one of the permitted ones when its effects were so clearly… well,  _ not _ permitted. But he even admitted to wanting Seph to hook up with Tifa, ‘cause the stuff with Nibelheim… you know. It’s just—after hearing what you said about the emperor having weird motives… Do you think he might have paid the Marquis off to confess?”

Cloud ponders this. The emperor’s word holds quite a bit of weight, to say the least; if the Marquis had been reassured that his family would come to no harm… Sephiroth’s decision would have been a gamble on Emperor Hojo’s part, but it’s certainly worked out. Furthermore, if the gamble had failed, there would be no way for the Marquis to retaliate if he took the secret of the transaction to the grave.

Simple but effective. It’s certainly a possibility. But the question remains— _ why? _

And if this theory is true, who is the real culprit, then? Surely not the emperor himself; he may support Sephiroth’s current refusal to wed, but he could retract that support at any time and arrange a suitable marriage of his own. Unless the motive is for more than a simple political marriage—?

“It depends on too many hypotheticals,” Cloud says finally. “We don’t have enough information.”

Zack sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “You’re right. I was just tossing out ideas, but we have no way of knowing for sure if we don’t even know what the emperor even  _ wants. _ But—gods, Cloud, why’d you agree?”

“We may not know what the emperor’s motives are, but Sephiroth’s reputation as crown prince—” Cloud pauses, suddenly recalling, “That guard said—no one believes in the cover story. That they think Sephiroth  _ did _ end up sleeping with a woman, and the emperor is trying to avoid the political consequences. Is that—is that true?”

Zack rubs the back of his neck, looking anxious. “Look, this is what I’ve heard—and just what I’ve heard, okay? I can’t speak for everyone, but—yeah. People are split over who Seph actually slept with, but yeah, pretty much everyone I’ve spoken to knows that it wasn’t you who spiked his drink. But—get this—the emperor’s paranoia’s backfired on him. They think he’s trying to protect someone on the inside, instead of someone sneaking contraband in past Seph’s security.”

Cloud exhales slowly, relieved. So his death will not be in vain after all. Not that it wouldn’t have been worth saving Tifa’s life, but to hear that the cover might not have even worked had been—jarring. “Thanks, Zack.”

“But don’t you dare be worrying about that, okay?” Zack says. “It’s been what—five, six years?—since he was placed in charge of these things. The people’s memories aren’t that short; they were all there when the city was a huge mess under the emperor’s direct rule. This is the first major incident that hasn’t been handled cleanly since Seph took over, so even if people start suspecting the truth, don’t worry about his reputation, okay? Besides, you’re gonna be outta here before you know it, so if things really do end up going south, you’ll be right with us plotting damage control.”

“Of course,” Cloud says, if only to placate him, then quickly changes the subject. “What are you doing down here, by the way?”

“Oh!” Zack brightens and bounces a little on his heels. “Seph managed to persuade the emperor to let me and Kunsel take over guarding you for now. We won’t be able to be here all the time, but we’ll be in charge of picking who gets which shifts. It’s not much, but we’ll at least be able to keep stuff like what that  _ creep _ from earlier tried from happening. The regular guards for this prison are usually fine, but… Seph doesn’t trust the imperial guard. And after hearing what you’ve said, I get why. And…” He sobers. “And if all else fails…” He pats his belt, and there’s a faint jingling of keys.

Cloud gapes. “You can’t do that! A death row prisoner with personal ties to the crown prince escaping while his most relied-upon general is personally in charge of the security—”

“That’s why we’re keeping it as a last resort,” Zack says, looking grim. “But you know Seph would much rather have you be alive and on the run than dead. He can work his way back into the emperor’s favor, but you only get one life.”

Cloud shakes his head. “No. No way. I won’t do it.”

“Cloud—”

“I won’t have Sephiroth give up his dream for something like this.”

People would start crying favoritism, corruption, and then what kind of tone would it set for Sephiroth’s court? The whole point is to do things differently, to create a rule where Sephiroth’s officials are loyal to his morality and justice and compassion for his people, rather than out of fear or greed for money and power. And that’s if he even manages to regain his position; Emperor Hojo holds grudges like a padlocked chest, clutches them tight and refuses to let go. It’s completely possible that if Sephiroth gets in the way of the emperor’s mysterious scheme, he may never get a second chance again.

“Cloud,” Zack says quietly. “Don’t you think Seph wants you to be there as a part of that dream?”

Cloud shrugs. He’s never really considered it; he’ll do his utmost best to help Sephiroth achieve his goals, but he’s always known that he’s disposable in the larger scheme of things.

Something bright and angry passes over Zack’s face. “That’s it. I’ve got some things I need to talk to Seph about. Stay—stay here. I’ll be back.”

Cloud blinks as he watches Zack jog out, almost forgetting to lock the cell door behind him. “I’ll… be here, then.”

Not like he can go anywhere else.

-

Two and a half weeks later, Cloud looks up to the jangling of keys as Kunsel lets in a very familiar woman, and he scrambles to his feet. “Tifa!”

“Cloud!” Tifa throws her arms around him, uncaring of the filth that clings pervasively to his skin.

Cloud buries his face in her shoulder, taking a moment to relish in her familiar solidness, and for a moment, everything is okay again. Then he pulls himself together and straightens. “Tifa, you shouldn’t be here.”

The day after Zack had come, the emperor had banned all visitors under the guise of preventing any further incidents of assault, with all guards ordered to stay in the outer area of the prison. After that, Zack’s check-ups have been brief and intermittent, for fear of being caught by the servants who deliver food and empty the chamber pots.

Tifa grins, fierce and joyless and full of teeth. “I managed to convince Kunsel to let us in. This is our last stop before leaving.”

“Before… leaving?” Cloud hadn’t noticed the large pack slung over her shoulder, too distracted by her presence, but now—

“I’m leaving. After the shit my father pulled—” Tifa shakes her head. “I can’t stay here any longer. So I’m leaving. Come with us.”

Cloud blinks. “Us?”

“Us—oh!” She turns and gestures at someone hidden behind the wall, and another woman steps out with a small smile and wave, light brown hair tied up in a long tail and dressed simply in travel robes similar to Tifa’s. “This is Aerith. She… her story’s quite interesting. But we’ll have time to talk about it on the road—” She tugs lightly on Cloud’s hands as if to drag him along despite their chains.

Cloud pulls back. “I can’t.”

“Cloud! Your execution date is…” Tifa trails off, reluctant to verbalize it, as if it will somehow set Cloud’s situation further in stone.

“Set for tomorrow at sundown,” Cloud finishes for her. “I know.”

“If you know that, then you also know you don’t have time to hesitate. Prince Sephiroth isn’t going to find some miracle solution after three weeks of nothing—it’s now or never, Cloud.  _ Come with us.” _

Cloud shakes his head. “You two will get through security fine. The guards won’t dare question the daughter of a Marquis, and you’ll be long out of here before anyone finds out you’re gone. But if I go with you, not only will all of security be on your heads, but Zack and Kunsel—and then Sephiroth—will get in trouble, too. You should go now, before curfew—”

“So what Zack said really was true, then,” Tifa says, cold and furious. “You really have given up.”

Cloud is silent for a moment, then leans in and murmurs, “It’s not Sephiroth’s guards who will be escorting me to the execution site.”

Tifa’s eyes widen. “Cloud! That’s cutting it close—are you sure you’ll be able to do it in time?”

Cloud shrugs. “Either I will or I won’t. No point wondering about it.” But he’ll be doing it on his own, without implicating anyone else, and that’s what matters.

“Your chains—”

“Don’t worry about that.”

Tifa regards him closely, then nods. “I’m glad. From the way Zack was talking about it… He was really worried, you know.”

Cloud ducks his chin. “I know. Sorry. I wasn’t… I thought about what he said, and…”

“And you realized you were being foolish, didn’t you, thinking that you could just lay down and accept your death for the greater good or whatever—”

“That’s a little harsh,” Cloud says, wincing. For a moment, yes, he’d certainly believed that his death would matter very little in the grand scheme of things, and maybe even be beneficial. After all, he’d rather die than be a liability. But what Zack had said—regardless of what Sephiroth might think of the situation, Cloud himself would like to see Sephiroth’s dreams come to fruition. It's selfish, he knows, but if he can prolong his use in any way—

“You’re taking it well,” the other woman—Aerith—says softly. “The possibility of your death, I mean.”

Cloud’s quiet as he ponders his response. Finally, he says, “I accepted death a long time ago, back when I was young. Sephiroth saved me from that fate. Each day I live is already one day more than I’d ever expected.”

“So in return, you’ve devoted the rest of your days serving to your emperor,” Aerith says. “I understand now.”

" … Yeah," Cloud says. Something about the way she says it has him shifting uncomfortably and suppressing a blush, as if the words imply more possession than just that of a respectful subject. Cloud's emperor…

If he could just live to see the day where he could openly call Sephiroth by that title without being branded for treason, then—

Cloud shakes his head. “Tifa said you have a story to tell. I’d be honored to hear it.”

Aerith’s jaw firms. “Yes. I do. Tifa has a part, too. If you aren’t going to come with us, it’s important you hear it now.”

“Quickly, though,” Tifa says. “Curfew is in less than an hour.”

Aerith nods and fiddles with a bracelet on her wrist, its green bead gleaming bright in the flickering candlelight. Then she takes a deep breath, and begins.

“I’m from the Outer City. I lived there with my adoptive mother for nearly my entire life until about a month ago. One day, three men dressed all in dark blue robes came and took me away under threat of my mother’s life.”

Cloud’s brow furrows, mind already working furiously. Dark blue robes—Turks. In other words, the Bureau of Investigation, impartial to all and loyal only to the one who sits on the emperor's throne. What would they want with someone like Aerith?

“I was shut in a… room, I suppose I should call it, because though a prison it may have been, it was certainly much nicer than this. Each day, a red-haired woman dressed in the same robes would bring me meals and make sure I was taking care of myself. But one evening—the night of the banquet, I soon found out—she came much earlier. She took great care in the way I was bathed, used luxurious soaps and scents, and dressed me in finery. Then she led me through several empty halls…

“Not fifteen minutes later, there was a strange commotion—you and your prince making your abrupt exit from the banquet, no doubt. The woman left me alone to go check what was going on. I took my chance. I ran. And I suppose the stars happened to align that night, because I ran straight into Tifa, who’d stepped out of the main hall for some fresh air.” She bats her eyes at Tifa, then continues, “I told her what had happened, that I was trying to get away, and she smuggled the both of us back to her rooms. A few hours later…" She trails off.

"Someone knocked at the door," Tifa continues for her, voice hard. "Neither of us expected… I told Aerith to stay out of sight. I ended up being escorted into another room to watch my father's interrogation. To watch him confess to drugging the crown prince, to wanting to drug his own  _ daughter _ only to be unable to find her. And you know how the rest goes. We were released the next day, and when I heard the rumors that were flying throughout the palace—well." She sighs, shaking her head. "I heard the full story from Zack later. But there's one thing that just doesn't add up.

"My father may be a twisted, manipulative, power-hungry bastard, but I can tell when he's lying. He denied smuggling any illegal substances into the banquet. The guards—they took his confession to having the sheer audacity to drug the prince at all as a confession to everything. But you know our family, Cloud—we know little to nothing of potion-making. We rely on our fists, not on herbs. My father knows even less. There's no way he got his hands on something as rare as a…" She wrinkles her nose. "A  _ semen production stimulant.  _ And if he somehow did, he'd have no idea how to sneak it past security or what it even was. No, whatever my father gave Prince Sephiroth, it was a perfectly legal lust-inducing potion. Not that  _ those _ shouldn't be illegal either, considering who all too often become victims of their effects, but—"

Cloud nods, thinking hard. Those kinds of substances have long been allowed in banquets, seen as a similar inhibition reducer to alcohol. Many banquets end in wild and often sexual situations anyways as the guests grow progressively drunker and drunker, often to the detriment of the younger women and servants, with the emperor turning a blind eye. It's only the substances with strange physical effects—such as the one Sephiroth had been given—that are harshly banned. Considering this new information…

"So there you have it," Tifa says. "My father wasn't the only one with dirty schemes that night. And somehow Aerith would have been forced to play a part if not for your intercession. You know… you know what this all points to, Cloud."

"I know," Cloud says, but fear keeps them all from verbalizing it even here, deep underground in the isolation of the prison cells.

"We've got to go now, before it's too late," Tifa says quietly. "I… Stay safe, Cloud. You hear me? We’re relying on you to tell our story.”

_ So don’t you dare die, _ passes unsaid.

"I understand," Cloud says, a new determination solidifying in his chest. His survival has become about more than just his own selfishness, now.

"I'm glad I got the chance to meet you, Cloud," Aerith says, smiling at him gently. "Let's meet again soon, okay? If your emperor ever needs a healer, let him know that I am at his service."

"We'll be going now." Tifa presses a soft kiss to Cloud's cheek, then takes Aerith's hand as they exit the cell. But before they leave, she turns to face him again, silhouette dark against the candle-lit doorway, and says, “Cloud. Aerith and I owe you our lives. Our lives, our futures, our freedom…” When Cloud opens his mouth to protest, she holds up a hand. “I know what you’re going to say. But your old debt was repaid years ago. If you ever need anything—and I mean  _ anything— _ don’t hesitate to send me a message. You know how.”

And then they are gone.

-

Cloud holds Tifa and Aerith’s words close to his chest throughout the entirety of the next day.

He holds them close as the last of the waning daylight fades through the thin slats that are the windows of his cell. He holds them close as echoing footsteps bring flickering candlelight to replace it.

He clutches them especially tight as the imperial guard, stone-cold and impassive and unreadable behind their carved, fierce-faced helmets, take no chances and hold him down tightly as they replace the chains he’d been slowly weakening with a shard of stone with brand new ones, steel-bright and untarnished and unyielding, tight enough that his hands are forced behind his back and he can only take slow, shuffling steps.

And he clutches them even tighter as they surround him on all sides, gripping his arms tightly, and march him down the halls, the only pillar of strength left that keeps him placing one foot in front of the other even as hope seems to dwindle to nothing.

_ At the execution site, _ he tells himself. That’s his only chance now. When the guards leave his side and it’s only him and the headsman.  _ Be patient. Be calm. _

But no amount of self-reassuring can still his frantically fluttering heart. It’s as if it knows its beats are numbered, and it fights to drain the last dregs of its purpose before its life is cut short.

_ Like me,  _ Cloud thinks with no little humor.

Maybe, if he’s lucky, his heart will thud right out of his chest, and Sephiroth will be spared watching Cloud die. Or, more realistically, Cloud will be spared watching Sephiroth’s face as he dies, because his existence is an essay in self-torture, and he knows his eyes will automatically seek Sephiroth out if given the chance.

Cloud’s snapped out of his thoughts as they finally exit the prison, but guards take a turn that leads away from where he knows capital punishments are carried out, and he cranes his neck, trying to see behind them.

“Where—”

He nearly trips as he’s roughly shoved forward, a wordless reminder to keep moving. So he keeps his head high and facing forward as they continue, but his eyes dart around, taking in his surroundings, gathering information. Categorize. Analyze. Break it down for strategy. But—

But he’s known since the moment they let him out of his cell. There’s nothing, bound as he is and surrounded on all sides. Cloud may have been chosen by Sephiroth for his ability in combat, but these guards are all elite fighters of their own, armed and ready as Cloud is not.

For the first time in three weeks, he can feel the breeze cool and sweet against his face. The palace garden’s birds, specifically chosen for their bright coloration and melodious chirping, sing in the trees, some cheerfully, some mournfully. Cloud shuts his eyes, taking it all in. It’s beautiful.

It’s beautiful, and Cloud is going to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> spoiler alert: cloud doesn't die


End file.
